#owow

[anglerflsh]

wow I sure hope nothing bad and tragic happens to the three of them. anyways (@sheerunfilteredhubris's novel characters)

[literatemisfit]

[willgrahamscock]

Don't you know I'm in love with you? And I wasn't ready For asylum (relive a lie) To let go, now it's dragging me into your grave Your asylum (forgive the lie) Overcome by the feeling that I won't get to join you in time

In the end there will be no suffering (more suffering) In the end we will find out everything (not everything) In the end you may question your belief (what belief?) In the end you will realize someday How you were deceived

[h2llish]

i was clenching my jaw and now my teeth hurt

[jakethefurry]

Judy fanart 🐻🔵🍨1# UwU

[the-messenger-hawk]

I meant to link this yesterday, but I was overwhelmed, but I got fanart!! Look how pretty he is! Go compliment the artist (if you have twitter)!

[pacaparadise]

Comic about gay Fucking bugs

[hollowhornets]

(trigun spoilers) i need to get off google docs and stop causing myself more pain

[yeahaurelia]

My brain is like falling out of my head through the hole that connects it's to my shoulders so I'm gonna die in like a few hours or something

[thestarlightbrigade]

Does trouble find Mehkai or does he find trouble, or does he cause trouble?

“How about neither. I don’t go lookin for trouble and trouble doesn’t come looking for me either. I try to live a pretty simple life after all. It’s not like I have an important job or am required for my abilities for the fleet. I’m pretty Ordinary.”

[leftdestiny-posts]

I got a SUPER boop???

[lillyontheborder]

Are you a clubs player? Cause we’d make a great team~

Are you a hearts player? Cause you be playin’ with my heart~

Are you a diamonds player? Cause you be messin’ with my mind~

Are you a spades player? Cause I wanna run away with you~

Are you a citizen? Cause I wanna stay here with you~

I know I know, I’ve got rizz baby~

[jakethefurry]

Teepo

[astrum99]

I can’t stop thinking about angel anatomy.

How are they made? What are they made of? If we break them down limb by limb, flesh by flesh, molecule by molecule, would we find the same structures that echoes our DNA? The same stable, constraining carbon? The same heavy metals? The same blood that flows with life, with death? Are they made of the same stardust that echoed in me?

Do they have a brain? A large raw organ, fragile and limited, capable of complex imaginary hallucinatory mathematics with scheduled periods of unconsciousness to make up for the capacity? A liver and two kidneys? To distill the holy light from the contaminates of the polluting environments akin to a dialysis machine cycling the liquids within the veins? A spine that holds strong? Riddled with the same 33 bones and ridges and intervertebral disks and fluids and sensitive nerves and has a habit of bending over for tedious work? A stomach that stirs and shifts constantly? To hold food? Souls? Light? To churn and froth at the consumption of concepts? An appendix? This small unless thing that rests and nestles between the layers of warm, worm-like intestines? How many teeth do you have? How many fingers? How many knees? What is the shape of your nails? What is the colour of your esophagus? How deep are the socket of your eyes?

How fast does your heart beat?

Is it faster? Slower? Do you even have a heart?

Do you feel in the same way that I feel? The pressure of processed wood against my feet, the nagging buzzing of LED light above my head, the smell of faint smoke from a cooking disaster weeks ago. The sound of people laughing unruly in the distance, putting on a show in the TV program that no one watches. The dampness of the towel against my face. The pain of a needle sliding into soft flesh that gives way willingly to metal. The bruises blooming slowly, aching like love. The chirping of songbirds, the shape of cumulus clouds, the haziness of a morning fog that really stayed for far too long. The way that my mother worked around the hard peels of an orange with the sharpest knife in the kitchen, just to present the sweetest parts to me. The tenderness of a shoulder touching mine before stealing my blankets (again) with a giggle that indicated no remorse. The sluggish sunlight that sneaks through the shades just to press a kiss on my forearm. The sorrow and passion of the symphony on the last show on the last tour, followed by cheers and drunken (revered) confessions during the post-performance celebration at 3am in a random bar of a random city. The foot print of an animal in the first winter snow of the year, like a human pressing their hand print on to the cave walls, chanting I am here I am here I am here, chanting remember me remember me remember me.

Do you bear the shame of sacred inabilities as we humans do? Unable to see beyond the visible spectrum of light? Unable to distinguish the difference between wet and dry, only to assume based on temperature and texture? Unable to know if someone else was speaking of the truth? Unable to see inside someone’s mind? Unable to thread words in a way that completely gives you away like you intended to? Unable to turn back into a child and speak of love so easily? Unable to run forever and ever? Unable to peak into the veil beyond space and time and death? Unable to tell your pet that you’re sorry for making them take the awful medicine and please don’t hate me please don’t hate me please don’t hate me? Unable to be remembered and recognized, at least not wholly, at least not without mistakes?

Do you ever feel the strangeness of existence? Why you? Why now? Why here? That sometimes it feels like the world is five degrees to the left and you are just out of sync enough to keep going. That sometimes you are so overwhelmed with the the giant coincidence that is the world so you weep uncontrollably at the wonder of it all. That you feel like suffocation as you dig into the earth with your bloody fingers because a bird hit your window and died and you didn’t know and you kneeled by it for an hour before realizing it wasn’t breathing.

It died so long ago. It won’t get up again. The first time you held a bird was its cold hard corpse. So small between your palms, so fragile. It’s feathers iridescent. You have never seen one so up close. It was the prettiest and the deadest thing you’ve ever touched. It feels like the world. It feels like a prayer. Do you understand?

Do you regret like me? Love like me? Despair like me? Do you dream like me? Pray like me? Cry like me?

How close are you?

Let me touch you.

Please, I have to know.

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

OW.

[dadturnedbarbarian]

"you don't like me, you idiot. what you like is someone who withholds validation. what you need is someone who tells you you're a good, good boy; and no one in your life believes that you're a good, good boy. so you looked at me as this one person who showed any amount of affection toward you -- platonic or otherwise -- and you said, 'ah! that's the guy i'm going for!' you don't want me, you want to self-validate."